


Whatever She Wants

by wyvernwood



Category: Star Wars Legends: The Old Republic (Video Game)
Genre: Canon-Typical Fantasy Racism, F/F, Femdom, Force Bondage, Temporary Collar, Under-negotiated Kink, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Fisting, honor bondage
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-11
Updated: 2019-11-11
Packaged: 2020-12-27 11:28:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,419
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21118040
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/wyvernwood/pseuds/wyvernwood
Summary: Stress release after a difficult Dark Council meeting turns from sparring to something more intimate between the Wrath and Darth Nox. It's not the first time.





	Whatever She Wants

**Author's Note:**

  * For [butterpanic](https://archiveofourown.org/users/butterpanic/gifts).

Dark Council meetings were always very stressful. 

This one hadn't been any exception. Nox had been so quiet that the Wrath might have wondered if she had even paid attention, except she knew Nox always paid attention. The disinterest and sleepiness was a facade. 

Usually something Marr or Ravage said would irritate her enough to draw forth a few words, at least. If not them, then Zhorrid. Nox never could stand Zhorrid. But that hadn't happened. And Malgus had held the floor for a good portion of the session, which was far more likely to irritate the Wrath while leaving Nox pleased as she could be.

Still, Nox didn't ignore her. Not this time. She wanted something. The Wrath had a couple of guesses what it was, and while she didn't stop pacing, she also stayed around long enough to give Nox a chance to catch her at a pause. 

"Wasn't that tedious?" Nox asked. Despite her words and bored-sounding tone of voice, a jittering tension emanated from her. The Wrath could feel it under her skin.

Nox was a head taller and her shoulders were twice as broad as the Wrath's; she probably massed nearly double of the Wrath's whipcord-slender frame. But Nox was from one of the subraces and the Wrath's blood was pure. They were evenly matched in a head to head fight, the Wrath believed, though she would never admit it. And she would never have to -- when they sparred, the Wrath always won. 

For multiple reasons; one of them was that no fight between them had ever been to the death, as evidenced by the fact they were both still alive. While the Wrath's top priority was victory, Nox's was and always had been survival. If surrender was less likely to end in her demise than continuing to fight, that was what Nox chose. 

"Deadly boredom. I need a fight to revive me," Nox added. "And you owe me a rematch."

"I owe you nothing," the Wrath said. Her voice was low and clear. She stared at Nox's chest, refusing to tilt her head back to look the Dark Councillor in the eyes, the red, shining eyes in the red-and-black mottled face, marked with the tattoos or whatever it was that Zabraks did to themselves to look like that. _Savages._ "Practice would be good. In an hour?" 

"I don't want to wait that long," Nox said, grabbing for the Wrath's wrist.

The Wrath eluded her only because she'd expected the move. Nox did things like that. It was infuriating, in an alarmingly pleasant way. The dark side emotions flowed easily through the Wrath's body and she laughed with an impossible mixture of anger and amused pleasure. "You'll wait for me as long as you have to." The Wrath let the back of her hand brush against Nox's statuesque breast as she turned away. Yes, she thought, she _had_ managed to make at least the one nipple hard, she had felt it through the cloth of Nox's robe. 

The practice room that Nox and she most often used was available. The Wrath had her Lieutenant Pierce inform the red Imperial Guards that she and Nox would be requiring it in privacy for the next three hours. It would probably not be that long, but she had no reason not to pad her time. 

She liked to look perfect. It was intimidating, especially to people who found her attractive. She had Vette style her hair and do her makeup; the Twi'lek was good with such things. After the styling gel, the brushing and the heat, Vette's careful touch with paint and brush, her dark curls haloed her face and the eyeliner did amazing things with the golden glow of her eyes. Her lips looked more full and from the way Vette preened alone she knew she looked her best. 

Far too good for the likes of Nox, but that --

The Wrath laughed softly at herself and shooed Vette out. She undressed down to complete nakedness and sprayed herself with her favorite scent. Then, mind wandering to pleasures yet to come, she relaxed on the padded bench and touched herself, the pads of her fingers wandering to her clit and stroking lightly. 

She made herself come once, then again. It wouldn't do to be frustrated when it came time to take her prize. Musing over what she might do with Nox, she sucked idly on her fingers, then washed them clean. 

The Wrath put her robes back on and made her way to the practice room. She nodded to Lieutenant Pierce and glanced at the two Imperial Guards with him as she went inside. 

Nox was already there, fighting padded dummies with a plain wooden staff. She didn't have her formal robes on anymore that she had worn in the Council meeting; instead, she was dressed in a loose sleeveless duster over a wrap that went around and between her legs. Serviceable exercise wear, but uncivilized, like the woman herself. She beat the leather-bound stanchions till clouds of dust or whatever was inside them puffed forth with every strike. Her speed and accuracy was breathtaking. 

The Wrath took in the sight, indulging herself. When the urge to action overcame her, she located her own usual starting practice weapon on the racks. A thought pulled it to her hand, and she stepped into the fight without a word. 

Nox pivoted readily to fighting the Wrath from her fight against the inanimate opponents. She rained blows from both ends of her staff in the Wrath's direction, but the Wrath's simple wooden sword was always there to block and deflect. They circled and made more complex figures across the floor, between the padded dummies and around one another until finally Nox landed a blow against the Wrath's shin, followed immediately by the Wrath landing one harder against her collarbone. First blood -- no, first bruise.

They were both a fraction more cautious after that. More feints, fewer full force strikes; some thrusts and ripostes made light touches but no more bruising blows landed in the next few minutes. The Wrath moved less than her opponent; Nox was pushing herself to move, to circle wider. The big Zabrak's hair had begun to go limp with sweat while the Wrath's was still perfectly in place as Vette had arranged it. 

"Enough preliminaries?" the Wrath asked at a moment when she judged that Nox might need a moment to catch her breath before she could answer. "Shall we begin for real?" 

She tossed her wooden sword aside and held her hand up. Her lightsaber flew into it.

Lighting it, she cut the wooden staff that Nox wielded into three pieces. Nox dodged away, vanishing briefly and reappearing with her double-bladed lightsaber alight and ready. 

"No disappearing," the Wrath said, her voice light. 

"You can tell where I am anyway," Nox said, making herself invisible again. 

The Wrath proved her right by striking overhand, a blow deflected by Nox with only the saber blade showing until it pulled her fully back into view. 

"When I can't see you," the Wrath said, "I'm more likely to _burn_ you," and she tried to do just that, a cut across the upper arm, barely averted by Nox's twisting away in the opposite direction she had expected. 

She was letting Nox get to her. The strength of Nox's arms, the circles her body traced in such graceful curving motions for so large a person, the waves of dark force that emanated from the Zabrak, and a blow nearly got past the Wrath's defenses. A momentary sizzle of Nox's dark-orange saber against her thigh burned and thrilled her, making her heart beat faster, her head swim. 

The Wrath focused her energies on _winning._ The shard of the Emperor within her, willing and eager to subsume any death, even her own, for victory. "Through victory my chains are broken," she muttered, not aware until she heard her own voice.

She had begun to sweat herself by the time she finally had Nox up against the wall with her saber off, the business end of the hilt pressed to the Zabrak's throat. A tiny drop of moisture gathered at the back of her neck as she looked up into those glowing red eyes. 

"Parole," Nox said hoarsely. 

"Whatever I want, and you live," the Wrath said, her voice so low it was the next thing to a whisper. The burn on her thigh throbbed in rhythm with her heartbeat, faster than it should be.

"You like this part too much." Nox smirked to cover the fear and passion that swelled in her, the heady darkness of it unmistakable to the Wrath's force senses. 

The Wrath didn't deny it. Why lie when she'd won? "Get those horrible excuses for clothes off."

The Zabrak untied the duster and dropped it to the floor. She unwrapped the band of cloth she'd had on under it to hold her breasts. Her nipples were long and thick, already getting hard. 

The Wrath had always liked that about Nox's body. She took one of those oversized nipples between her thumb and forefinger, rolled it thoughtfully. Nox seemed to be distracted by the sensation, had stopped unwrapping her garment. "I said get them off. Naked." 

It was a fine line the Wrath had to walk, between what Nox would do, having given parole, and what would sting her into disobedience. She had to make it exciting, pleasurable, something Nox wanted, but at the same time, make it clearly a price for losing. It was very much like how the Wrath did everything -- balancing the Dark Council against the Emperor, the light against the dark, freedom against tyranny. Victory would break the chains, but there must be chains to break.

This was the other reason the Wrath always won. Nox would never admit it, but she wanted this, she wanted to be forced to chained pleasure. So instead of admitting it, she set herself up to fall. It was proof she didn't belong on the Council, the Wrath thought, and yet there was no way to stop what had already been done; and the woman's power was undeniable. Her ability to control ghosts was frightening and unprecedented. It was that the Wrath respected, not the giant savage who cared more for her own skin than for her honor.

She bit her lip as she braced herself for this next bit. It was a risk she was taking, it might be too far, but she felt -- she had sensed the last time they did this that Nox wanted more than she could let herself take without some additional crutch. This was going to be that crutch. 

An old slave collar. 

Nox had been a slave, the Wrath knew that. She was famously opposed to the practice and refused to own slaves or even allow her apprentices or those who served her to own any. And yet the sight -- the Wrath had seen Nox almost salivating over force restraints. 

She wasn't about to use _those_. Half her enjoyment came from the dark side power Nox built up during these -- activities they indulged in together. It would be a waste. 

Nox was finally naked. The Wrath waited, and she went down on her knees. The Wrath circled around her, touching her shoulders lightly, pinching and tugging her nipples, around again behind her and -- snapped the slave collar around her neck. 

The collar flew off in a flash of lightning. "What --" Nox said, and stopped, gasping as her throat closed. 

The Wrath slowly opened her fist and let Nox breathe again, then picked up the slave collar from where it had landed. "Anything I want," the Wrath repeated. 

"Anything _else,_" Nox said, her voice wavering.

"Do that again, and the next time, I might not accept your parole," the Wrath warned. Her gold eyes flared. With Nox on her knees, their eyes could meet with the Wrath comfortably looking _down._ She much preferred it that way.

Nox looked away and held herself stiffly as the Wrath placed the slave collar on her neck again. This time it stayed on.

The Wrath looked around the room. One of the weapon racks was just the right height, she remembered. She spotted it -- that one. She pulled it over to them with the Force, stopping it when it was just behind Nox. With a wave of her hand, she spilled the practice weapons it held off the top of the rack and onto the floor. 

"Get up on it," she told Nox. "And lie down." 

It would work with Nox face up or face down, and the Wrath wanted to see which she'd choose. 

Nox was on her back with her legs dangling, toes just touching the floor. The Wrath picked up one leg and set Nox's foot on the rack. It made her knee bend. Nox drew her other knee up to match. The Wrath looked her over. This worked well. She kept her fingers trailing along Nox's body as she walked around, looking at the Zabrak from all angles. The black markings were scarcer on her body than her face, but they were there, zig-zagged across her stomach, striping her thighs. Her breasts were free of them, all red, with the nipples a dark brown that was clearly not the black of the tattoos. 

With the slave collar on, Nox couldn't rest her head on the rack without making the collar bite into her flesh painfully. Instead, she had her head propped up, watching. The Wrath let her watch; craning her neck like that couldn't be comfortable for her, and that was amusing. She took the control for the collar -- smaller than a datapad, a metal box with a couple of buttons and a slider -- and set it on the rack where Nox could see it. Something else for her to watch.

Nox's nipples were stiffening with apparent arousal. Those nipples -- the Wrath kept being drawn to tugging on them, squeezing them, and even though she had something she wanted to do, she indulged herself with this for a few minutes. By the time it was all she could do to resist biting them, she pulled herself away and moved between Nox's thighs. 

Nox was very wet. It was easy for the Wrath to get three of her fingers inside, eliciting a grunt from Nox, moving them and stroking got her more sounds, probably pleasure. As the Wrath stroked slowly, her hand growing slick with Nox's wetness, she let Nox enjoy the sensation, only stopping when Nox began to move, to push against her hand. Warning enough. Nox seemed to make more of an effort after that, to hold still. 

When Nox began to move again, the Wrath did not stop stroking. Instead she reached with her other hand, the one not inside Nox, toward the collar control device. She felt Nox clench around her fingers, felt the muscles in her abdomen contract, saw her flinch. Nox held herself still more carefully, until the pleasure was so much she apparently couldn't control her movement. 

The Wrath felt Nox's fear and anticipation in the force, saw the direction of her gaze, her eyes widening as she looked at the collar control. But that was not the Wrath's direction, not what she wanted at this moment. Since Nox could no longer keep herself still, the Wrath placed her hand on Nox's abdomen and held her in place, not only physically but with telekinetic power as well. 

Her concentration was so sharp, her control so precise that the only physical indication of Nox's orgasm was internal. It lasted long enough that when it was over and the Wrath let Nox move, she gasped for breath. As Nox's internal muscles unclenched, relaxing after her climax, the Wrath formed her fingers together, pointed in a cone, and carefully, slowly, with steady pressure, eased them inside.

Nox didn't protest in words, only sounds the Wrath didn't think she could help making. She clenched down, tightening around the Wrath's hand, and the Wrath tightened her hand in response, pressed harder and slower, wiggling the cone of her hand to fraction by fraction put it deeper inside. The widest part of her knuckles was stretching Nox and the tightness was almost painful around her hand and she kept pressing, turning her wrist this way and that, easing her hand inside until the knuckles were past the tightest part of Nox's opening and her whole hand was inside, curling naturally into a fist and she turned it again side to side, slid it just till she couldn't pull the hand out without uncurling it, didn't uncurl it. 

The dark side force energy built and built around them, not visible to the eye but all her other senses were full of it, ears roaring with it, nose filled with the smoke of it, mouth tasting the musk of it, and all her skin alight with the cold burn of Nox's passion, fury, fear, pain, pleasure. The Wrath pushed her fist as deep into Nox as it would go, knuckles against softness that had given until it could not give any more, pulled out till she was stopped by the tightness the fist couldn't emerge from. With her free hand, the Wrath dabbed lightly at the swollen flesh of Nox's clit, delicate touches that she wondered Nox could even feel through the sensations that were filling her, but clearly Nox could and did, her muscles spasming around the Wrath's hand and wrist as she gave herself over to an orgasm and then almost immediately to another. 

The Wrath's fist unclenched and Nox's body pushed her hand out almost immediately, almost too fast, nearly damaging herself with the speed and pressure. But it was not quite injury and the Wrath told herself she would not have cared if it had been. She dragged the soaking hand up Nox's body, leaving a trail of Nox's own lubrication across her stomach and chest. 

Nox's head was thrown back, her neck held uncomfortably, her eyes squinted in some intensity of emotion. The Wrath lifted Nox by the shoulders and brought Nox's breast to her mouth, sucking that gorgeous nipple deep into her mouth, biting as much of it as she could fit. Now Wrath was the one moaning, Nox silent in her arms, Wrath's tongue sliding around Nox's nipple and her teeth putting moon-shaped marks into the Zabrak's soft red flesh.

The Wrath let up on her biting only to open her mouth wider and pull more of the breast into her mouth. Her arms tightened around Nox. Nox finally wrapped her arms around the Wrath as well, not holding too tightly, but bunching the muscles in her shoulder as she held on. 

They stayed like that for several minutes. It took a lot for the Wrath to get enough of Nox's nipples. She finally took a deep breath and eased back, nipping as she let the length of Nox's nipple slide out between her lips. She dropped a kiss onto it and then on the other one, that hadn't had nearly as much attention. Next time. 

There was always going to be a next time, or so the Wrath thought. Until one of them got herself killed on one of their insanely dangerous trips out into the galaxy, which given Nox's survival instinct would probably be the Wrath, first. And the Wrath didn't think she would be dying any time soon. So. Next time would happen. 

She helped Nox off the weapon rack and unclipped the slave collar. Also next time, she'd use its shock function. That would be exciting. She wondered if Nox would lose it when she did that. "That's all I wanted," the Wrath said in a falsely offhanded tone. "Give my regards to your ghosts and to Dr. Drellik." 

"The ghosts say fuck you."

"If you're really good, maybe someday I'll let you." The Wrath lifted Nox's hand to her lips, nibbled on her index finger. 

"Oh, maybe it wasn't them, maybe that was me." Nox took a deep breath. The darkness was close around her, and then the big Zabrak disappeared from view.

As she cleared out of the training room and Pierce fell in beside her, the Wrath wondered if the Dark Councillor would make it all the way back to her quarters naked without letting her invisibility fall. It entertained her all the way back to her ship imagining that Nox hadn't.


End file.
